No B at the Allpark
by Chicachu
Summary: An original story taking place in the KND universe. When the kids accidentally hit their baseball into an adult's yard, they won't give up until they get it back.


**~Disclaimer~**

 **I don't own the Codename: Kids Next Door universe. KND is the creation of Mr. Warburton and property of Cartoon Network. Although I claim ownership of the characters and story, all rights belong to Cartoon Network. This fanfic exists purely for fun. Enjoy!**

It was the middle of spring break. The grass was getting greener by the day, the sky becoming bluer by the hour, and the clouds disappearing by the minute. All signs of rain were gone. The sun continued to warm up the neighborhood, removing any evidence of the recently passed winter. That day was a perfect day to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine.

A tree house stood surrounded by a neighborhood of white wooden homes with red roofs. However, this tree house was not of the typical kind. The tree stood stories high, and built all around the massive branches were balconies and garages. A home like structure was built within these branches - complete with a main room with the latest video gaming system, kitchen stocked full with cookies and ice cream, bedrooms that didn't have to be cleaned, hallways to run in whenever the urge hit, and private labs to create weapons out of staples and juice boxes. It was every kid's dream tree house.

Six preteens, all on the largest balcony, occupied themselves with an intense game of baseball. The teams were evenly split, and the rules were strictly enforced. Yet despite this, nobody had thought to keep score. All the kids wanted to do was play; neither winning nor losing was on anyone's mind.

Two boys stood outside of the poorly painted diamond. On right field was Numbuh 301, second-in-command yet the quickest to give orders. His dirty blond bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his brown eyes narrowed in concentration. He was dressed in a blue and black T-shirt with blue jeans and a pair of dirty, white sneakers. Swishing around a wad of saliva, the boy spat and slapped his left hand into its gloved counterpart. The second boy, Numbuh 303, rolled his forest green eyes at the sight. Numbuh 301 had an annoying habit of acting purely for show.

Unlike his fellow operative, who was clearly in the zone, Numbuh 303 stood in a laidback manor. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead in a futile attempt to get his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. He took a mental note of how he was really overdue for a haircut. His baggy gray shirt clung to his sweat covered body, but his beige cargo shorts did a fine job of keeping his legs cool. "You gonna throw the ball or what, Numbuh 305?" he asked the pitcher. "I'd like to finish this game before the school year ends."

Numbuh 305, a girl with dark caramel skin and even darker hair cut to her ears, rolled her chocolate brown eyes at the boy. Did he not know that she had a lot on her mind? Whether or not to throw a curve ball, how fast should she fling said ball, why she wore light blue jeans and a black shirt on such a hot day - she didn't know how it was possible to process so many thoughts at once. Sometimes she wondered if it was a good thing she didn't possess the voice to speak whatever popped into her head.

"Leave her alone, Numbuh 303," scolded a lemon blonde girl with short braided pigtails, a white skirt, and a light blue Rainbow Monkeys T-shirt. As she was not needed for this play, she stood on the sidelines and acted as cheerleader. "Why are you rushing her anyway? She's on your team for crying out loud! Don't you want her to throw the ball in a way to keep Numbuh 304 from hitting it?"

"Who's side are you on, Numbuh 302?" asked Numbuh 304, the batter. The operative was dressed in knee length jean shorts, a green T-shirt with orange sides and sleeves, and a red baseball cap with blonde bangs peeking through. Sweat dripped down the exposed back of the neck. "You're on our team, remember? If Numbuh 303 wants to rush his teammate, let him. It'll increase our chances of winning."

"That's not how friends should act," Numbuh 302 claimed.

"All's fair in baseball and war," returned Numbuh 304.

"Enough, all of you," said their leader, Numbuh 300. She straightened up from behind Numbuh 304 and cast rebuking glances at everyone save Numbuhs 301 and 305. She wore a yellow sports T-shirt and white, dirt stained shorts. A braid of hip length, pure black hair hung over her left shoulder, and as she swept it back she added, "We're here to have fun. If you guys can't get along, we can work on reprogramming the security system for the rest of our vacation."

"Anything but that," groaned Numbuh 304. The others chorused in agreement.

"Then let's shut up and play!" shouted Numbuh 300. She kneeled again, her face and bear arms stained with enough dust to classify her as in need of a bath, but regardless, anyone could see how the love for the game shown on her face. "Anytime you're ready, Numbuh 305!" she called to the pitcher.

Numbuh 305 nodded once before resuming her aim. She was the evaluator, the planner, and the inventor. The ten-year-old lived to think outside of the box. Even the simplest of problems was capable of having the most complex solutions, complex solutions the girl thought about for hours, sometimes days, straight. She readied herself, steadied her breathing, focused her mind-

"Today already!" shouted Numbuh 303.

The boy's sudden, loud words startled Numbuh 305 and made her jump, prompting her to throw the ball before her calculations were complete. Numbuh 304 swung the bat, and the sound of the ball meeting aluminum echoed throughout the neighborhood. "Look at her fly!" the excited preteen shouted, the ball sailing high in the air.

"Run, Numbuh 304!" Numbuh 300 shouted as the ball flew over the tree house, Numbuh 302 screaming her cheers in the background. "Make the homerun! Fly past those two monkeys!" The batter didn't hesitate the sprint.

"Way to go, Number 303," Numbuh 301, the only operative who pronounced the _r_ sound in the word "number," growled as he ran after the ball. He missed catching it and had to chase the object. Annoyed herself, Numbuh 305 even shot Numbuh 303 a rude hand gesture.

"Homerun!" Numbuh 304 shouted after passing the home plate. Numbuh 302 screamed a heartfelt "Yay!" in victory. Numbuh 301, now holding the ball, gripped it tightly lest he throw it at the other boy's head.

"Awesome swing!" the leader exclaimed as she high fived her fellow operative. In a quick and unpredictable motion, she caught Numbuh 304 in a headlock and said, "I love you, Numbuh 304."

"Not this crud again," Numbuh 304 complained, trying but failing to escape the headlock. "Lemme go!"

"I said," Numbuh 300 began to noggie the younger kid, "'I love you, Numbuh 304.'"

"Fine. Fine!" the tough kid shouted in defeat. "I love you too, Numbuh 300. There, happy now?"

"As a clam!" Numbuh 300 shouted as she let go of Numbuh 304, dropping the operative on the hardwood floors with an "Omf!" To the other blonde, "Come on, Numbuh 302! You're turn!"

"Yay!" the perky child cheered before running to the base and pushing the now standing Numbuh 304 out of the way, knocking the poor kid back down. The operative fell with another loud thump. Numbuh 302 picked up the bat, readied herself in position, and said, "Give me your best throw, Numbuh 305!"

"No offense, Number 302," Numbuh 301 said, "but you can't hit the ball when Number 303 pitches, and he's the worst pitcher I've ever met."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" Numbuh 303 asked.

"It means you throw like a sissy girl," Numbuh 304, now sitting on the sidelines away from everyone, answered with a laugh. "Even Numbuh 302 can throw better than you. At least," Numbuh 304 mused as if in deep thought, "you and Numbuh 302 are equal when it comes to batting skills."

"You're insufferable," Numbuh 303 stated.

"Good, that means I'm doing my job right." Numbuh 304 smiled.

"All right, let's get this game back on track," Numbuh 300 said. To Numbuh 305, "You ready, girl?"

Numbuh 305 gave a thumbs up before preparing herself to pitch. With sporty Numbuh 304, loads of calculating and technique were required if she wanted to throw a ball Numbuh 304 would at least have some trouble hitting, but when it came to girly and ditzy Numbuh 302 . . . Taking a deep breath, Numbuh 305 didn't think. She just threw the ball.

The dauntless composure Numbuh 302 carried vanished when she saw the baseball hurling at her. "Eep!" she cried as she closed her eyes and swung the bat.

"Strike one!" Numbuh 300 called before throwing the ball back to the pitcher.

"I knew she couldn't do it," Numbuh 301 mumbled, his posture now mimicking Numbuh 303's laidback one. It was the same as taking a break whenever Numbuh 302 assumed the role of batter. Of all the times the kids have played, she had never once hit the ball. This was why she was always on the same team as athletic Numbuh 304: the teams had to balance out one way or another.

"It's okay," Numbuh 302 tried. "I got this!"

Numbuh 305 threw the ball, and again the same results played out. "Strike two!" shouted Numbuh 300.

"I don't think she does," Numbuh 303 said.

"I think she can do it if we believed in her more," Numbuh 304 told the boy before turning to the skittish batter. "Come on, Numbuh 302. Show those losers who's boss!"

"Yeah, Numbuh 302," Numbuh 300 smiled. "You can do it!"

"You really think so?" Numbuh 302 asked, her eyes wide and sparkling with innocent hope.

"Nope!" Numbuh 303 shouted as a form of answer.

"Ignore him," Numbuh 300 rolled her eyes. "Of course you can do it if you really believe in yourself."

Puffing out her chest, Numbuh 302 smiled and replied, "You're right. I can do this! I just have to try harder."

"Great," Numbuh 301 said so quietly only his fellow catcher could hear. "She's going to swing so hard that not only she'll miss the ball, but that bat will fly out of her grip and sail into a window or something."

"Don't let Numbuh 300 know you said that," Numbuh 303 responded just as softly. "She'll make you fix that window."

"Okay, Numbuh 305," the leader said, "let her rip!"

With a short nod, Numbuh 305 positioned the ball behind her head and then flung it with all her might. _Not even Numbuh 302 could miss a careless throw like that,_ the pitcher thought.

The blonde squeaked at the fast approaching baseball, but this time she didn't flinch away. Forcing her eyes to remain open for the first time ever during her time as batter, Numbuh 302 swung the bat as hard as she could. It was to everyone's amazement when they heard the crack of ball meeting bat.

"Holy crud," Numbuh 304 said, jaw hanging agape. "She actually did it." The boys could only stare in awestruck wonder. If they didn't believe in miracles before, they certainly did now.

"I . . . I did it," Numbuh 302 whispered in complete disbelief, watching the ball sail higher and farther. Then she shouted, "I actually did it!"

"Out!" Numbuh 300 yelled, causing the happy moment to come to an abrupt end.

"Huh?" Numbuh 302 gave her leader a confused look.

"She means that the ball is not in the field, so the hit doesn't count," Numbuh 304 explained, rising to a standing position. "I knew you hitting the ball was too good to last for long."

"Still, it's impressive that she actually hit the ball," Numbuh 301 said. "Not to mention the baseball is still going."

"Yeah, but I'm not liking its current destination," Numbuh 300 said in worry. She walked to the railing and mentally calculated the ball's landing place. "Oh no!" she gasped. "It's going to . . . _his_ house!"

"Wait a minute, you don't happen to mean Mr. Fruttlelane, do you?" Numbuh 304 asked, hoping for a negative answer.

"Yep, that's him all right," Numbuh 301 answered for the leader.

"But he's, like, the meanest man alive! He scares kids, for fun!" Numbuh 302 cried.

"And he hates baseball," Numbuh 303 sneered, as if the hate of the sport sickened him more than the neighbor's hatred of children.

"It's going, going . . . ," Numbuh 300 said as she watched the ball aim downwards. With a gulp she finished as the baseball landed. "Gone."

Silence lingered, and then, "What are you waiting for, Numbuh 302? Go get it."

"What!" the Rainbow Monkey loving girl exclaimed in surprise. "Why do I have to get it, Numbuh 303?"

"Because you hit the ball over there," the operative responded. "Now go get it."

"Y-you get it!" she said, her body shaking in fear. "You're a boy, so you go get the ball."

"No way!"

"Just somebody get the stupid ball," Numbuh 301 said.

"Then why don't you get it then?" Numbuh 303 countered.

Numbuh 301's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm not getting the ball! Maybe Numbuh 300 should get it, since she's the leader and all."

"Hey, no volunteering your teammates!" Numbuh 300 snapped.

"Then go get it," Numbuh 301 snapped back.

"Yeah right. I'm in charge here. Why don't you go get it, second-in-command?"

"Why doesn't Numbuh 305 go get it?" Numbuh 303 asked.

Numbuh 305's eyes grew in shock. She began frantically waving her hands in front of her, silently begging to not be sent.

"Hey, dummy," Numbuh 304 said to Numbuh 303, "Numbuh 305 is _mute_. She could try, but I don't think Mr. Fruttlelane understands sign language."

"Numbuh is right," Numbuh 300 said, "we can't send Numbuh 305. Mr. Fruttlelane would have no idea what she's talking about if we send her to get our ball back."

Wiping her forehead in relief, Numbuh 305 took a moment to be grateful for her inability to speak. She then signed "thank you" to Numbuh 304.

"Then you can go instead," Numbuh 303 said, finger pointed at Numbuh 304.

"Nuh-uh! Ain't no way I'm going over there!" Numbuh 304 exclaimed.

"'There's no way,' Numbuh 304," Numbuh 300 corrected the operative. "'Ain't no way' isn't proper."

"Who cares? What's important is who goes to get the ball!"

"Numbuh 304 is right. All that matters is that somebody gets our baseball back," Numbuh 302 said. "Since Numbuhs 300 and 301 are in charge, maybe one of them should go get our ball."

"I agree with that," Numbuh 303 said, and Numbuh 304 voiced agreement as Numbuh 305 nodded.

"Fine then, we'll settle this the way we settle every important decision," Numbuh 300 said to Numbuh 301. The two faced each other and held their right fists out in front of them. They then bounced those same fists up and down three times, Numbuh 300 speaking with the rhythm. _"Jan, ken, pon!"_ At "pon," her first was shaped in a sideways V while Numbuh 301's remained closed.

"Aha! Rock beats scissors!" he exclaimed in joy as he used his "rock" to smash his leader's "scissors." "You have to go get the ball now."

"Ugh! Fine," Numbuh 300 said. Turning to Numbuh 304, she ordered, "Numbuh 304, go get the ball for me."

"What?!" the operative exclaimed, voice pitched a little too high. "Why do I have to get it! You're the one who lost!"

"Three reasons," she began. "One," she held up one finger, "I'm the leader, and as your first-in-command I am giving you an order. Two," two fingers, "I'm older than you so that gives me double authority. And three," this time she curled her fingers back into a fist, "I'll pummel you if you don't."

"Puh-lease," Numbuh 304 said, light hazel eyes rolling. "I'm practically the best fighter on this team; you can't pummel me."

"Shall I point out your use of the word 'practically' when calling yourself the best fighter?" Numbuh 300 raised an eyebrow. "In case you have forgotten, I _did_ teach you everything you know."

It looked as if Numbuh 304 was going to argue, but instead the operative thought better of it and mumbled a "fine" before stalking off. "Stupid . . . I didn't . . . not my fault . . . isn't fair . . . cruddy girl," Numbuh 304 grumbled only loudly enough for the others to make out bits and pieces.

"I don't think we should let Numbuh 304 do this alone," Numbuh 302 said quietly as she watched her friend walk down the stairs to ground level.

Numbuh 300 inhaled deeply before letting out a slow sigh. "Neither do I," she said before turning to the others. "Okay, we go too, but only as backup. Understand?"

"I don't think Numbuh 304 needs backup," Numbuh 303 said.

"Then maybe you can retrieve the ball for me instead," Numbuh 300 suggested, eyebrow raised.

Numbuh 303 considered this for a moment before saying to Numbuhs 302 and 303, "Come on, guys. We better get going or we'll lose Numbuh 304."

* * *

Mr. Fruttlelane's home was an old, faded pink trailer in the place of where a proper home used to be. The building was destroyed by a hurricane before any of the operatives' parents were born, but instead of rebuilding it like most people did to their wrecked homes, Mr. Fruttlelane simply had a trailer put in its place. The grass was a dying yellow, and the only tree in the yard was so dry that it must have died centuries ago.

Numbuh 304 stopped at the front of the gate and gulped, the other KND members watching from the other side of the street. "It's okay, Numbuh 304," the kid said quietly enough for nobody to hear. "You can do this. You're tough, strong, and brave. Plus, you're too stupid to know when to be afraid, so what's stopping you from asking an old geezer for our ball back? That's right, nothing. So why are you standing there instead of walking up to the door? Get going!"

As the self pep talk worked, Numbuh 304 strutted past the gate, to the front door, and up the rotten wood porch. As if nothing in the world was wrong, Numbuh 304 gave three distinct knocks before waiting for the elderly man to answer the front door. The others watched, seemingly impressed by Numbuh 304's courage. _Piece of cake,_ the operative smiled. _This is too easy._

"What do you want?!" were the first words uttered as a man with wrinkles all over his face and a hairy mole on the tip of his giant nose opened the door as far as his chain would allow. When he spotted the child on his porch, he bitterly asked, "What do you want, son? Can't you see I'm busy here?!"

"'Son'?" Numbuh 304 questioned but, with a shake of the head, decided it wasn't worth it. Before Mr. Fruttlelane could say anything else, Numbuh 304 responded, "Sorry to bother you, sir, but my friends and I were playing baseball when my friend"- Numbuh 304 jabbed a thumb in Numbuh 302's direction -"accidentally hit the ball too hard and it fell in your yard. I came to ask for it back."

Mr. Fruttlelane looked at Numbuh 304 for a solid moment, as if evaluating the child. Just when the operatives thought they were getting their baseball back, Mr. Fruttlelane spat "No!" before slamming the door shut and locking it loud enough for even the kids across the street to hear.

"Well, that didn't go according to plan . . . ," Numbuh 300 said after half a minute of stunned silence.

"Oh no he did not!" Numbuh 304 growled soon afterwards. Pounding on the door until Mr. Fruttlelane opened it again, the operative said with a strong, confident tone, "Listen here, old man. I came all the way over to this dump to nicely ask to have my friends' and my ball back. Now either give me the ball and that will be the end of it, or get used to my presence 'cause I ain't leaving here without that ball."

"Oh really?" Mr. Fruttlelane asked, his bushy gray eyebrows raised.

With a loud kicking sound followed by screaming, the rest of the Kids Next Door stepped out of the way to make room for the falling Numbuh 304. The fighter landed flat on the ground, surrounded by the others. Before anybody could say anything, Numbuh 304 was standing upright again and marching back towards the trailer.

"Uh . . . , you think we should stop Numbuh 304 before something worse happens?" Numbuh 302 asked, tightly clutching the hem of her Rainbow Monkey shirt.

Before Numbuh 300 could answer, Numbuh 303 butt in with, "I don't know, I think this is pretty funny to watch."

 _You are a horrible friend,_ Numbuh 305 signed to the brunet. _Don't you care what might happen?_

"Numbuh 304 is a big kid," Numbuh 303 shrugged. "This is nothing our hand-to-hand combat specialist can't handle."

"I'm not so sure about that," Numbuh 300 mused.

The others watched as Numbuh 304 pounded on the door for the third time. When Mr. Fruttlelane answered the door yet again, Numbuh 304 began, "Okay, grandpa, you are one strike away from me kicking your saggy bu-"

Before the operative could finish, a white, circular object was dropped outside the trailer and next to Numbuh 304's feet. "Now get off my property!" Mr. Fruttlelane shouted before slamming the door, louder this time.

Numbuh 304 stared at the ball for a moment before exclaiming, "Sweet! I knew I could get our ball back with a little persistence." Picking up the ball, Numbuh 304 began to run back while shouting, "Hey guys, we can finish our game now!"

"Wait a minute," Numbuh 301 said, his eyes narrowing. Upon seeing that the object was not their ball, he ordered the others, "Duck and cover!"

The five kids hide behind mail boxes, trash cans, and a car, leaving behind a confused Numbuh 304. "Uh, guys?" the operative questioned.

"Numbuh 304, drop the ball now!" Numbuh 303 ordered from his place behind a black trash can.

The operative scoffed. "You can't tell me what to-" Before "do" could be spoken, the "baseball" exploded in Numbuh 304's hands with a blasting _BOOM_. When the smoke faded, Numbuh 304's faces was black with soot and the tip of the kid's blonde bangs feed a small fire that quickly went out. "Yes, Mommy," Numbuh 304 said, dazed, "I'd love to lick the leftover chocolate chip cookie dough off the spoon." With that said, Numbuh 304 fell backwards on the asphalt.

"Numbuh 304!" Numbuh 303 shouted as he, the leader, and the medic technician ran towards their injured teammate. Numbuhs 301 and 305 followed closed behind.

"Numbuh 304, are you okay?!" Numbuh 300 asked, frantic, holding Numbuh 304's upper body up in her arms.

"'M fine," Numbuh 304 answered, eyes spinning inside their sockets, "but these stupid blue birds won't stop flying 'round my head."

 _This kid is going to be okay,_ Numbuh 305 signed, and Numbuh 301 nodded in acknowledgement.

"That's it," Numbuh 300 said through gritted teeth. "Nobody hurts my any of my teammates and gets away with it." Dropping Numbuh 304 for the second time that day and rising to her feet, Numbuh 300 stood firm as the leader and said with authority, "Kids Next Door, we're going in."

"And how, exactly, are we going to do that?" Numbuh 303 asked as he helped Numbuh 304 stand upright.

Their leader only grinned. "You'll find out soon enough," she said as she pushed a button on her wristband. This activated the main computer back at the tree house, in turn sending a signal to the Kids Next Door satellite.

 **reading . . . reading . . . reading . . .**

 **CONNECTION**

 **knd satellite link up complete signal engagified**

 **preparing transport beam location lock**

 **notrubraw rm-46071:**

 **now sending:**

 **THE KIDS NEXT DOOR**

 **KID-CANON**

The satellite responded appropriately and shot a laser-like beam to the operatives' location. Next to the preteens was a large object shaped the same as a tank but built out of wood, slinkies, and toilet paper rolls.

"Everyone, into assigned positions!" Numbuh 300 commanded, and not a single person hesitated to obey. They entered through the entrances with their numbers painted on them and followed each individual tunnel to their place in the KID-CANON.

Numbuh 300 sat in the middle, her seat raised. From her left to her right sat Numbuhs 305, 304, 303, and 301 in that order. Only Numbuh 302 was missing.

"Uh, Numbuh 300," the others could hear Numbuh 302's girlish voice echo muffled inside the KID-CANON. "Where am I? And why's it so dark in here?"

"Well, Numbuh 302," Numbuh 300 answered as she looked through the periscope, "we need someone to launch out of the KID-CANON."

"WHAT?!" the blonde screamed loudly as she tried to, with no avail, worm her way out of the canon. "You're going to _launch_ me?!"

"Sorry, Number 302," Numbuh 301 said as he checked the program "but you're the only operative who's small enough to fit in there." To make the scared girl feel a little better, he added, "There should be a helmet in there for you to put on. It will help protect you when you're fired."

Numbuh 302 whimpered like a kicked puppy but put on the helmet without further question.

"Almost . . . Almost," Numbuh 300 mused as she searched for an appropriate target. "Target locked. Fire Numbuh 302!"

Numbuh 304 removed the case from the button, quietly said "Sorry girl, but it has to be done," and pushed the red FIRE button.

The canon on the tank, now locked on its target, shot out the small girl like a Fourth of July rocket, a purple and pink helmet now on her head.

"GAAAHHHHH!" she screamed in terror. The trailer was getting closer, and it was only a matter of seconds before she crashed in.

"What the-?" Mr. Fruttlelane, confused by the high pitched screams, looked out his front window to see a nine-year-old coming his way. "Holy Molly!" he shouted before dropping to the floor just in time for Numbuh 302 to fly through the window and sail across the room.

The petite girl crashed through a wooden door, leaving a small hole in its place, and slammed into a glass case. The glass shattered to pieces, and spilling out of the broken case were dozens upon dozens of baseballs, footballs, and soccer balls. When she was no longer dizzy, Numbuh 302 noticed something at the top of the pile.

"Our ball!" she cheered as she scurried to the top and took the baseball into her possession. "Numbuh 300 is going to be so proud of me for retrieving our lucky ball," she said as she put the item in her skirt pocket, "and the others will be impressed with me if I managed to take some of these balls back to our tree house, too."

"MY COLLECTION!" shouted a raised, threatening voice.

"Uh oh." Numbuh 302 turned around slowly to find Mr. Fruttlelane staring at her in a mix of disbelief and anger.

"How could you ruin my collection of stolen sports balls from the neighborhood kids?!" Mr. Fruttlelane demanded.

"Wait, you collect the sport balls you steal from children?" Numbuh 302, forgetting all fear, asked with a raised eyebrow. "You strike me as someone who'd collect stamps as a hobby, not stolen baseballs."

"For forty years I have been collecting baseballs and footballs and soccer balls of children who had their ball land in my yard," Mr. Fruttlelane said, more to himself than the child in front of him, as he fell to his knees. "Now that collection is ruined."

"Hold up! You mean to tell me that you've been stealing baseballs for _forty years_?!" In that moment, Numbuh 302 looked more disbelieving than Mr. Fruttlelane. "You seriously need a girlfriend."

Mr. Fruttlelane ignored her. His mind still on the broken care and spilled balls, he shouted, "You destroyed my collection! And now you're going to pay, you little brat."

Suddenly remembering what fear is, Numbuh 302 gasped an "oh no!" before rising to her feet. "Sorry to bolt, but - oh, look at the time! - it's getting late. Gotta go!"

The sector's medic tried to run to the door, but her shirt was grabbed from behind. "You're not getting away that easily, girly," she heard Mr. Fruttlelane's voice hiss behind her ear.

"H-h-he-he-he-" Numbuh 302 gulped. "HEEEEELP!"

Numbuh 304 gasped, hearing the other kid's cry for assistance. "That sounded like Numbuh 302!"

"What do we do?!" Numbuh 303 shouted, panic rising for fear of what could become of the smallest and youngest member.

"We go in, of course," Numbuh 301 replied as he cracked his knuckles.

 _How, exactly, are we going to help?_ Numbuh 305 informed them. _We left our weapons at the tree house! It's not like we can walk in there and ask for our friend back. It didn't exactly work that way with our baseball._

"Good point," Numbuh 304 said. To the leader, "What do you think, Numbuh 300?" Finding the seat Numbuh 300 previously occupied empty, Numbuh 304 looked around, confused. "Numbuh 300?"

"In here!" the leader's voice answered.

"What are you doing in the canon?!" Numbuh 303 shouted, understanding exactly what the older girl was up to. "You're too tall to fit in there."

"That's not important," the team could hear through the walls. "Turn the firing power on max, and shoot me where we sent Numbuh 302. I'm going in."

"You're insane," Numbuh 301, assuming leader position, said as he became checking the aim.

 _It's why she's our leader,_ Numbuh 305 signed before resuming her role of turning the fire power up to level eleventy-billion.

"Somebody, help!" Numbuh 302's pleas came from inside.

"Hurry!" Numbuh 300 ordered.

"I'm working as fast as I can," Numbuh 301 snapped as he made slight adjustments to the canon's aim. "Target acquired. Fire the leader!"

Numbuh 304 slammed a fist into the red button, and Numbuh 300, wearing a green helmet, shot out with more force than the previous operative.

"Lemme go, lemme go, lemme go!" Numbuh 302 cried, her legs kicking aimlessly as Mr. Fruttlelane held her up by the collar of her shirt.

"Brats like you need to learn a thing or two about respecting private property," Mr. Fruttlelane snarled.

"LET HER GOOOOO!" the cry was heard moments before a blurry force knocked into the elderly man, causing him to to drop Numbuh 302 before falling to the ground. The blonde operative could only land on the floor with a gasp.

"Okay, that hurt more a lot more than I thought it would," Numbuh 300, helmet dented and black hair falling out of her braid, moaned as she sat upright. To Numbuh 302, "No more launching you out of the KID-CANON."

"Numbuh 300!" the medic cheered as she ran towards her leader and tackled her with a hug. "Am I ever glad to see you!"

"Do you have our ball?" Numbuh 300 asked, cutting straight to the point. When Numbuh 302 answered with a nod, Numbuh 300 grabbed the younger operative by the wrist and said, "Great, now time to go."

Before the kids could exit through the front door, Mr. Fruttlelane's raspy voice could be heard gasping, "No . . . you . . . don't." The two turned around to look at him, and the elderly man was staring at them as his shoulders heaved up and down. "You . . . are going . . . to pay . . . for ruining my collection."

"To be fair," Numbuh 302 began, "none of this would have happened if you just gave us our ball back in the first place."

"Not helping," Numbuh 300 said under her breath loud enough for Numbuh 302 to hear.

"Grrrraaaaaggghhh!" Mr. Fruttlelane screamed. He pulled a small remote out of his robe pocket, glared at the KND operatives, and said gruffly, "You made me mad, and you're not going to like me mad."

"We don't even like you not mad," Numbuh 302 said, again forgetting to be afraid. "Like really, do you even know how to smile?"

"Numbuh 302," Numbuh 300 said, a warning evident in her tone, "now would be a good time to shut up."

"Why?" the operative asked. "What can this old man possibly do to the Kids Next Door?"

"What can I do to the Kids Next Door?" Mr. Fruttlelane chuckled, and not in the jolly, good natured kind of way. "I'll show you what I can do to the Kids Next Door." He pushed the button, and suddenly armor began appearing out of his robe. It covered him from his neck to his toes, and what was similar to a motorcycle helmet wrapped around his whole head. He looked like a robot he was that covered in metal. "Let's see what I can do to an annoying, filthy brat like you," Mr. Fruttlelane said as he pointed an arm at the two. The armor around his right arm reshaped itself, and when it was finished it became a gun readying itself to fire.

"Oh boy," Numbuh 302 said, her face dropping.

"Say goodbye, girlies!" Mr. Fruttlelane exclaimed, a look of joy growing on his face. He fired the gun shaped arm, and, only because Numbuh 300 pushed the smaller child out of the way, barely missed the tiny girl. A black, smokey carpet now existed where the blonde girl stood.

"This is bad," Numbuh 300, immediately jumping back to her feet, said at the sight of the black spot. "This is really bad."

"I know," Numbuh 302 added as she dusted off her shirt, "this guy looks creepier smiling than he does frowning!"

"There's nowhere to hide," Mr. Fruttlelane said as he again took aim at the children.

Numbuh 300 stood protectively in front of Numbuh 302. She kept her feet firmly planted on the ground and locked eyes with her enemy. "Give me your best shot," she practically dared.

"Trust me, I will," Mr. Fruttlelane said, a smirk forming on his face. Before he could fire, however, he was interrupted by a stray football hitting him in the side of his head. "What now?!" he growled as he turned his attention to the thrower.

At the front of the trailer stood Numbuh 305, her eyes narrowed and teeth bared. She executed a series of hand gestures, none of which Mr. Fruttlelane understood. Numbuhs 300 and 302 smiled at the signs, knowing exactly what their fellow operative said.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Mr. Fruttlelane asked, having enough humanity in him to be somewhat respectful of the mute.

"She said," a boyish voice came from above, "'You mess with one operative from the Kids Next Door, you mess with all of the Kids Next Door."

Three pairs of eyes looked in the direction of the voice to find Numbuh 301 hanging on the corner of the roof like a spider. He smiled at Numbuhs 300 and 302, and Numbuh 300 winked in return.

Numbuh 300 smirked, "Kids Next Door, attack!"

As the leader and medic ran to safety, Numbuh 301 jumped from the roof and kicked Mr. Fruttlelane in the head. "One!" the boy shouted.

Next the balls that rolled out of the room were now thrown at the armored man. Numbuh 302, scooping up the balls by her feet, hurled soccers and footballs and baseballs at Mr. Fruttlelane. For her, it was a sweet moment of revenge. "Two!" she cheered before jumping into the air.

While Numbuh 302 was still in the air, Numbuhs 303 and 304 were sprinting towards him, a loose garden hose between them. "Three!" "Four!" Each respective operative shouted before sliding low on the ground. They used the hose to trip Mr. Fruttlelane and make him land flat on his face.

Numbuh 305 came in then, and it was with a connected hose that she mercilessly sprayed the old man until he was soaking wet. When she finished, the dark skinned girl held up five fingers and mouthed with enthusiasm, "Five!"

Mr. Fruttlelane began to look up, but something fell on him and covered his eyes. Numbuh 300 slammed an empty garbage can on his head and leaned on the worn plastic. "Well guys," she said as she pretended to examine her nails, "who's up for finishing our game?"

"You know I'm in," Numbuh 303 smiled.

"Me too," Numbuh 301 chimed in, "but I'm worried that Number 302 will hit the ball into somebody else's yard this time."

"You're so mean, Numbuh 301!" the smallest operative exclaimed, but she laughed instead of taking offense. She then looked at another operative. "Numbuh 304, your cap is gone."

"Oops," the fighter said, knowing that the cap must have flown off during the slide only minutes before, and turned around to find Mr. Fruttlelane holding the bright red cap in his wrinkled fist.

"What are you going to do without your cap, son?" the man chuckled as if he executed some form of last resort, albeit pathetic, revenge. However, when he looked up, he was shocked to see a blonde ponytail lying on the kid's shoulder.

Hose aimed at Mr. Fruttlelane, Numbuh 304 said through gritted teeth, "I'm a girl." With that, the operative fired the water full blast at the man's face. When she was satisfied, Numbuh 304 dropped the hose, reclaimed her favorite cap, and ran to catch up with he friends.

"What took you so long?" Numbuh 303 asked as Numbuh 304 was walking alongside them again.

"Old geezer tried to take my cap," she answered, hiding her ponytail under the cap as she placed it back on her head. "Can you believe he thought I was a boy?"

"I can," Numbuh 300 answered. "You do dress like one, and you keep your ponytail hidden."

"I thought you were a boy when we first met," Numbuh 302 said.

"Me too," Numbuh 301 added in.

"Sometimes I wonder if you even know you're a girl," Numbuh 303 smiled. Numbuh 304 responded by tripping him.

"Shut up," Numbuh 304 growled.

 _You did ask for it,_ Numbuh 305 signed as her shoulders bounced up and down in laughter.

The Kids Next Door walked in silence for a minute before Numbuh 302 pipped up and asked, "So, who's turn is it to bat when we get back to the tree house?"

"It's still yours," Numbuh 300 answered, and the other operatives groaned in perfect unison.


End file.
